


Tear In My Heart

by Rabdom



Series: Kill to the Music [1]
Category: Marble Hornets, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Multi, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, creepypastas - Freeform, eventual Toby/Hoody/Masky, kinda a prequel to Here Comes the Sun, mainly Tim/Brian rn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27767416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabdom/pseuds/Rabdom
Summary: Tim finds himself lost to the Operator after the events of Marble Hornets; caught up in a lone life of travel and covering up the Operator's tracks. He's been so used to being alone, his friends long gone or having moved on with their own lives. But what would happen if a friend long gone would return to him in the most unconvential of ways? And what of his life living under the Operator and meeting more horrific monsters than he ever thought existed?And what of the newest Proxy the Operator decides to bring in, in the hopes of lessening the burden of his two highest ranking members?Tim could only suppose, at this rate, that the more he wasn't surprised with life, the better.
Relationships: Brian Thomas/Timothy "Tim Wright, Hoody/Masky, Timothy "Tim" Wright | Masky/Brian Thomas | Hoody, Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers | Ticci Toby/Brian Thomas | Hoody, Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers | Ticci Toby/Timothy "Tim" Wright | Masky
Series: Kill to the Music [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942312
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I felt the need to write this, mostly because I wanted to write something similar Here Comes the Sun (another story of mine), but kind of from the prospective of Brian and Tim. Naturally, I ended up starting with them and how Brian came back, how they got together, etc.
> 
> Just to make sure I clarify -- the story starts no more than a year or so after the events of Marble Hornets, and will end roughly four or so years after the events of it. I won't have Alex or Jay physically in this story, just mentioned. But if I get enough of people interested, I might actually end up posting my story of Alex and Jay returning for similar reasons (though I'll be honest; my main reason for that story is so the boys find out there's a lot scarier things than Slender here).

_ Sometimes You Gotta Bleed To Know, _

_ That You’re Alive and Have a Soul! _

_ But It Takes Someone To Come Around, _

_ And Show You How -- _

Timothy Wright -- or Masky, as he was so joyfully called among the residents of the household upon first meeting newer residents -- was never one for good luck. That was why he was here in the first place; having never truly avenged his fallen friends and, in the end, succumbing to the Operator’s wims shortly after his final visit with Jessica. He could only hope she was still out there somewhere, doing alright and not caught up in the midst of it like she had previously been. At least now, he was doing it alone without worry of harming his comrades again. Or, so he had originally thought.

Masky had woken up in one of the many abandoned buildings he had often called home, bones sore from sleeping on hard concrete as he tried to stretch them -- only to pause, body becoming flush against the wall behind him as he stared, wide eyed beneath his mask, at the figure with the mustard colored hoodie that stood not a few feet away; squatting down with its arms slung over its legs as it watched over him curiously. How long had it --  _ he _ been there? Had he forgotten to take his meds again? No, he was sure he had. So why did this hallucination seem so  _ real _ ?

“I thought I told you to  _ go away _ ,” the masked man practically ordered, using the wall to slide up to his feet. 

Although he believed the figure before him to be another illusion, he couldn’t help but at least  _ talk _ to it. They never seemed to react regardless of whether he spoke to it or not, whether he threatened it or threw objects that phased right through its body; they always simply sat or stood and stared, mocking him. Reminding him of how he killed his best friend and once crush by shoving him out of a window too high to assure that he would live. He deserved it, really;  _ all _ of it. Perhaps even as much as Alex did, as at least Alex was dead. Tim, however, had to live through this pain. Always had to remember the events that had transpired and Jay and Brian and those  _ damned _ tapes.

The figure didn’t move away even as he inched away from its presence, red eyes still watching him closely as he moved to leave. It was unnerving, really.

“You’re an idiot,” Masky grumbling, turning to leave with the knowledge that the figure would disappear likely before he even left the building (he never stopped to check this; oftentimes simply leaving only to find himself alone once he exited his hiding spot and not knowing  _ when _ exactly the hallucination ended and reality began) -- 

\-- yet his heart stopped as he heard movement behind him, then footsteps. He turned on his heel then, only to find that the figure had  _ indeed _ begun to follow him. It was a mere four or five feet away, yet looking at him quizzically as he stared back. Masky did his best not to seem put off by how  _ odd _ this one was acting. They never moved like this. How strange.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Masky hissed now, shoulders square as if ready to fight off his demon with his bare hands. “I said it’s time for you to  _ scram _ to whatever crevice of my brain you came out of, yeah?”

The hooded figure merely cocked its head to one side curiously, hands now in its front pocket as it looked him over. The scowl beneath the mask began to grow substantially the longer he stared at the figure before him.

“I _said_ ,” Masky went on, even angrier now (though whether it was because the hallucination wouldn’t leave, or that Masky couldn’t make himself leave the building in question on his own and make peace himself, he couldn’t be too sure), “ _leave_. _Me._ _Alone_.”

Knowing the few times he had tossed something at the figure had caused it to dissolve into thin air, Masky grabbed a nearby piece of cement ceiling that had fallen from age and gave it a rough toss at the figure. But the oddest part of it all?  _ It didn’t disappear once the stone hit the soft surface of fabric and flesh _ .

Instead, it made a soft-ish noise as it impacted, the hooded figure jumping and taking a step back as it looked down to where the piece of building had hit him, then to where it had fallen and then to Masky again. The white masked man had his eyes wide at this, and after a moment of hesitation -- picked up another chunk of ceiling and chucked it square at the man’s chest. Again, it made a soft noise as it hit him, causing Hoody to again jump back. His hands flew out of his pocket, up into the hair in silent surrender even as he stared at the other with a cold expression.

It was real. It was  _ real _ . It was real enough that, in an angry attempt to prove it wasn’t, that its face met with the sturdy contact of Tim’s curled up fist as it connected, sending Hoody stumbling to his ass rather quickly. A gloved hand grabbed where he had been hit as Hoody quickly looked up to the figure that now loomed over him with balled up fists. Masky was shaking almost uncontrollably, and the one on the ground half expected another hit --

However was welcomed to Masky darting out of the building, and leaving Hoody momentarily confused before realizing he had to follow the man; and thus stood quickly and scattered after the other, albeit at a distance as to avoid any further pain.

*******

Tim quickly learned two things upon realizing that this thing wasn’t going to leave him alone.

The first was that Hoody was undoubtedly, unrealistically, uncannily  _ alive _ . He was no mere hallucination. He was, in fact, a real being that stood before him. Or, rather, followed him as he ventured, on the rare occasion offering silent assistance to whatever plot or mission their Master had set out for him. Tim hated to admit that he was somewhat grateful for the help, no matter if it was someone who was supposed to be dead. Granted, he wasn’t letting the mustard colored hooded wearing ghost anywhere  _ near _ him, thus declining any silent aid offered when he was injured. Tim also knew he was alive due to the fact that he was taking his meds regularly; meds that were meant to help keep hallucinations  _ away _ .

The second thing Tim realized was that, while this was most definitely Hoody with his silent, stoic attitude and ability to stalk and kill with ease; this was most certainly not  _ Brian _ . At least, not  _ his _ Brian.

The hooded figure rarely took off his ski mask but to eat; and even then, it was usually only pulled up slightly above his mouth if not nose. And on the rare occasions when the other Proxy seemed bold enough to take off his mask completely -- everything just seemed so  _ off _ about him. Especially his eyes; eyes that were once colorful and full of life were now grey and merely stared straight ahead robotically, as if not in control of where they landed and thus forced to stared forward as if anyplace else would result in someone finding out he wasn’t fully human. That he wasn’t fully  _ there _ . And the few times Tim, in the dark of night huddled within the woods or some abandon building for solace from the elements, even attempted to speak with the other -- he would never speak back, usually only responding in grunts and the shaking of his head instead of his real voice, as if forgetting how to speak entirely.

But Tim took this company with stride. While he kept close eyes on his comrade, still baffled at the sudden return of his counterpart (and praying to whatever gods out there that this was some cruel joke, and Brian would suddenly perk up and begin talking as if nothing -- Marble Hornets, the Operator, all of their deaths -- had never happened and they were old friends again, like before), he couldn’t say he was wholly disappointed. He had never once seen the Operator during his ventures of doing what it asked, he had only received orders through notes or telepathy of some kind; and any human contact Tim received was through the rare booking and leaving of a hotel, grabbing food on the go, or -- more commonly -- through killing of those the Operator wanted gone. So this newfound company, although mute, was at least a change of pace. While it lasted, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masky/Tim find out about their master's 'home' -- and their new one

_ He’s the Tear In My Heart, I’m Alive _

_ He’s the Tear In My Heart, I’m On Fire _

_ He’s the Tear In My Heart, Take Me Higher _

_ Than I’ve Ever Been! _

It was one overcast day that Hoody seemed to decide he would no longer follow Tim around like a pup, but instead tug and grab at the other who’s hands swatted him away with force as they trudged through the woods towards their next goal. Yet Tim still followed, curiosity bubbling up in him. Hoody had never been like this, except on the few occasions where he knew the best way to track and kill their latest target; and he had never failed him then, so Masky still reluctantly followed.

Until, of course, they came upon an old settlement that must have dated back to the Colonial Era; houses rotting away and slowly becoming one with the first that was slowly overtaking it. One thing that stood out among the decrepit buildings, was a well that was slowly falling into shambles; stones falling out of all but one side, which held fast and persisted against the test of time. Hoody had so easily walked up to the well, hands in his pocket as he peered down into as if expecting something to be in it -- or possibly worse. Masky stood some odd feet behind, watching the other curiously and trying to figure out what exactly he was seeing.

After a few tense moments, Hoody turned towards him and gestured him over. Masky made a face, and went to ask what he thought he was doing -- however Hoody gave him little time to question as he moved onto the more solid wall of the well, standing atop it with ease and staring down into the abyss. Masky’s heart stopped for a moment, legs carrying him forward without his consent as the hooded figure plunged into the darkness of the well; Masky’s hand missing by what seemed mere inches as the other fell into the well. Masky flung his head over to the side, trying to judge the distance from where he was to the bottom to see if there was even a chance of retrieving the other --

Only to find that, not even five feet down, wooden planks covered the entrance almost perfectly. Compared to the rest of the buildings and even well itself, the boards almost seemed brand spanking new, untouched by weathering and the weight of an adult male plunging through them. His head spun then, confusion overtaking his frame the more he stared. Yet the more he stared -- the more something buzzing and static in the back of his head told him to follow. It was completely impossible, he knew; the vanishing act that Hoody had just performed before his very eyes. But, looking to the forest around him and then back into the well as the static and buzzing growing within his skull, he knew there was really only one way to figure out the secret of what the other had just done.

Knowing he had little left to lose at this point, Masky balanced on the edge he had seen Hoody so carefully stand on and, with one deep intake, he took the leap.

*******

Masky found himself being hurled quite literally from the black abyss he had so gracefully launched himself into. He hit solid ground  _ hard _ ; grass tickling at any bare skin it came into contact with as he slowly got his barings. Sure enough, as his vision began to clear through his mask, he found he was looking up to a brighter sky with taller trees -- and Hoody bent above him, head cocked to one side as he looked at the other. Concerned, perhaps?

Masky groaned, sitting up slowly as Hoody moved out of his view, hand rubbing at his head as he tried to look around. Yes, they were in a forest. But it was a completely different forest then where he had originally come from. Shooing away Hoody’s offered hand, Masky stumbled to his feet, still rubbing at his head.

‘The fuck….?” he groaned, finally looking to Hoody who seemed to be watching him expectantly. “Did we -- was that a portal through that well or something?”

Hoody nodded. Masky looked back to the well, then back to Hoody.

“Where the hell did it take us, then?” he asked, finally relieving his hand from his now dully throbbing head.

Hoody looked around, as if looking for clues to easily explain away what had just happened but to no avail. Finally, Hoody held up a finger in an ‘ah-ha’ moment before gesturing Masky to follow. Masky watched the other trot a few feet down a nearby path before slowly following suit; the sounds of trees rustling and birds chirping not easing the feeling of being watched, nor the fact that he was sure he heard things that didn’t sound like any animal he’d  _ ever _ heard before.

The walk itself felt like hours, yet must have only been thirty minutes tops as they managed their way down the path until it opened into a small field. A small, rickety looking house sat near the back, its rear against the trees that surrounded it. Masky paused, confused; wasn’t this the shack they’d found Hoody in before? No, it was most definitely different than before, if not a different place entirely. Hoody seemed to care not about its dilapidated state, merrily trotting up to its entrance and waiting for Tim expectantly as he followed behind at a slower rate.

The inside appeared to be just as welcoming as the outside. While not as completely ruined and weather torn as the outside, the inside appeared to not have been lived in for ages despite its more modern appearance. The living room adjacent to the front door was blocked off by a half wall; revealing an old looking couch, chair, table and shelving for a television or what have you. The floors were wooden with some dark spots here and there. The kitchen was attached to the living room, separated by a half wall and illuminated by one dim light; same as the living room. To the left of the kitchen door, a set of stairs led upwards into a black abyss. 

What unnerved Tim the most about the stairs was that, despite him being able to tell that they obviously were usable and went to a second floor -- the exterior of the building  _ hadn’t had a second floor _ . It had most definitely been a small, single story home. On the opposite end of the wall blocking the kitchen from the living room, there went a small hallway with another doorway; its door closed.

Hoody stayed quiet, as per usual, as Masky took in the view. He hadn’t even realized he had wandered into the middle of the living room until he turned to face Hoody. The figure stood between the kitchen doorway and the hallway leading to the front door, hands in his pocket as he watched the other adamantly.

“What….. What  _ is _ this place?” Tim asked, more curious than frightened. Hell, if he was gonna die here -- well, he was honestly ready to die, so it wasn’t like it mattered all too much to him anymore.

<”Home.”>

Tim jumped and spun around, body tensed as he moved for the knife in his jacket pocket. Hoody, for his part, didn’t seem to react fast enough -- though Tim now could see why as he slowly put his knife back where he had found it.

In the entrance to the small hallway with the one door stood the Operator, half slumped over due to his height in such a small building. If it had been anyone else, Tim might have found himself laughing at the sight. He knew better, though.

“Home?” Tim parroted, looking around himself again before looking back to his boss. “As in,  _ your _ home?”

<”No and yes, child,”> the Operator told him with a shake of its head. It took a slow, step forward, long arms swinging as if having a mind of their own at its sides as its face kept turned at Tim. <”I have found it fitting for a more suitable -- hmm -- ‘home base,’ as you might call it. This place -- my realm -- will be harder for humans to track down if we are in need of hiding.”>

Suitable probably wasn’t the best word for this place, considering all the dust and cobwebs that seemed to have built up over the years. But he supposed it otherwise was doable, considering it somehow managed to have light. And hey, it was better than staying at a hotel and having to dish out money to stay there.

“Heh, so much for a secret place,” snorted Tim as he looked around once more, “considerin’ we came through a wishing well. Don’t you think it’ll take just one drunken idiot to stumble in and find this place?”

<”On the contrary,”> was the Tall Man’s reply, <”for it seems your companion has found more ways than one to get through to here -- including that from where you came. And it will be unlikely that a human simply stumbles upon a way to us, much less knows of how to use such things nor any idea they exist.”>

Tim’s nose scrunched up under his mask as he turned to look at Hoodie, who stood practically motionless where Tim had left him. Now would’ve been a good time as any, considering Hoody only ever spoke in hand gestures and grunts and was never able to respond vocally (or, at least, never really tried).

“Speakin’ of _ him _ ,” Tim practically spat, gesturing to the figure that still stood otherwise unmoved. “You wanna tell me what  _ that’s _ about? The fuck is he here for -- or at all?! I thought I -- I  _ killed _ him!”

Both Tim and Masky had slowly become accustomed to being unafraid of the Tall Man over the time they had worked for it. They should have been more afraid, they knew. But what was the creature going to do to them that was even worse than what they had already gone through? Turn them into a mindless zombie? Kill the friends that were already dead? The family Tim no longer cared about and wished death upon them ages ago? There wasn’t much it could do besides torture -- and that might have even be a better fate than what was brought to them. So such fuming and angry language he used towards it was with disregard of their own lives. It really couldn’t be any worse.

The featureless face that stared down at him was tilted to one side as if in thought. It only momentarily looked to Hoody -- still unmoving, still ever so silent -- before looking back down to him. Sadly, such a being seemed to have unlimited patience with mortals such as Tim.

<”Assistance, my child,”> Slenderman informed, slinking past him and towards the door. <”My ability can stretch beyond your comprehension, and I’ve found it easy to reanimate the dead so long as it is within a small window since their death.”>

“And  _ why _ ?!” Masky hissed, body turning to follow the figure more easily. Hoody took a step away from the entrance to let their master past. “ _ Why _ him?  _ Why _ is  _ he _ alive?”

<”I told you, child,”> the Operator said, pausing his stride momentarily to look back at the other, <”assistance, primarily for yourself. You can be reckless, my dear child, to the point where I see you dead faster than intended. And this one --,”> he gestured with his head to Hoody, who was now turning his head between the two as each one spoke, <”--  _ Hoody _ , as you’ve apt to call him, was merely in need of a vessel to better move and assist. Unless you would rather I return him to his fate and find another?”>

Hoody’s face quite literally snapped back to Masky, who watched the two hesitantly; thrown off by the reasoning. Masky had to remember he was expected to respond quickly, and shook his head in response.

“No, I-- it’s fine,” he shrugged, then let out an annoyed sigh. “Could use the help, I guess.”

Slender nodded instead of speaking, finally withdrawing himself from the odd little house and leaving the two in moderate silence. The kitchen light flickers slightly, and Tim sighed as he removed his mask and a cigarette from his pocket. He supposed that if he was going to live here, he mused to himself as he lit the cancer stick, he might as well start with some improvements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda wanted this to explain where exactly Slender's 'place' is, as well as establish where it is everyone in my Creepypasta stories stay. Plus, I kinda dislike the idea of 'magical barrier keeps everyone from seeing where they're staying' since Slender seems a lot stronger than that, and figured 'having another realm where portals are needed to get to' seemed to more suit him.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Also, obviously -- muse was received by the song Tear in My Heart by Twenty One Pilots.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoody is slowly trying to find his voice; something Tim was sure he had long since lost.

_ The Songs On the Radio Are Ok _

_ But My Taste In Music Is Your Face _

_ And It Takes a Song to Come Around _

_ To Show You How _

Tim had expected that Hoody would stay the way he was for the rest of time (or however long they were stuck there; one would realize quickly under the control of Slender that no one really aged); mute, only ever using hand signals and grunts to get his point across. And, almost oddly enough, Tim was able to figure out what most of those grunts and signals were meant to be, as did some of others that lived in the house (yet he found himself better at it, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly) that they had slowly began to drag in after finding them -- or in the case of BEN and Laughing Jack, the entities had actually found  _ them _ \-- while scouring outside into the mortal realm. Yet neither Tim nor Masky found themselves minding being little translators.

In the time they had made the house they stayed in their home - of which seemed to grow and fluxuate whenever new residences made their home there - it came to both Tim and Masky that Hoody was really the only one of the bunch that they actually  _ liked _ (and Sally; but given she was under the Operator’s grace, she was naturally liked amongst all for fear of repercussion from the Tall Man otherwise). Most, they would get annoyed easily by even the smallest of interactions with others. But with Hoody - well, neither could say they ever got tired of the hooded figure. Tim had blamed that on his unending crush on Brian - something that couldn’t leave even after the other’s death at his hands. Even after their deaths, that feeling - that strong, surging feeling that rose up whenever Brian was nearby, whenever he  _ thought _ of him - still remained.

He partly blamed Brian for that. Not like it mattered much anymore, of course. Tim assumed he could just live the rest of his life without his best friend and crush being long dead, his body used up as nothing more than a shell for a creature that needed to do an Eldritch being’s tasks til God only  _ knew _ when. And he was quite alright with the odd hand gestures instead of speaking, of which both Tim and Masky had gotten well acquainted with understanding. Not a lot, but enough to get by. Anything else could be scribbled on the paper they kept hidden away in their room in case Tim could not otherwise understand.

But, of course, Tim didn’t expect Hoody to try and  _ speak _ ; didn’t expect Brian to push and shove his way out until he found himself at the surface, yearning to break free once again.

*******

The day was rainy, as it had been for the past few days. They hadn’t been sent on any scouting missions, nor to make someone disappear from their meaningless existence. Tim never minded; it was Masky who often took over for the killing and long, grueling missions, so at least he was at ease with not actually killing the people himself. But he knew a part of him nagged away at the thought of killing someone, regardless if their death was needed or not nor if it was really by his hands or his alter ego’s. Just like the others; just like Alex. But he tried his best not to think about those things.

So in the gloomy, borning light of the day and needing to get his mind off of his current thoughts that often plagued him when he was in control or could not find something to entertain himself, Tim had opted to keep to his room, reading one of the few, albeit obviously worn out books he had stowed away in his room. Hoody had, for the most part, entertained himself via roaming around the house and newest additions that had seemed to warp and twist their way into unending halls inside (yet showed no obvious additions to the exterior of the house since they had first arrived; Tim blamed whatever black magic it was Slender used to summon up this place to begin with) until he had gotten bored and found his way into their shared room.

Tim barely gave him a glance and nod from his maskless face as Hoody slunk into the otherwise quiet room, his own mask covering his face as it often did. Tim wasn’t sure  _ what _ the deal was with him wearing that damned mask all the time, especially if Hoody was just Hoody and not  _ Brian _ ; but he wasn’t going to question it. He really didn’t feel like getting stabbed at this point in his career, if he were being honest. And especially not by one of his closest friends.

And so the room stayed quiet even as Hoody got onto his bed, shifting around slightly while Tim did his best to focus on his book. Some old fantasy, he remembered as he read, that he had likely picked up from his stays at mental hospitals or something of the likes. He figured there was little cause in throwing it out, especially when any money they ‘found’ or ‘made’ often went to groceries or things that could help fix up some of the things in this rickety old house Plus, they were on alright terms with BEN, so it wasn’t odd for the poltergeist to occasionally allow them to use his NES or whatever gaming systems he had in his arsenal. It could be worse, all things obvious.

“T-Tim.”

The voice was low and hoarse; it sounded as though it had to fight its way up the vocal cords and out the lips that were covered by the mask. Tim’s body tensed, head slowly turning from his book to the figure sitting on the bed across the room from him. Hoody sat cross legged, hands on his knees and head tilted to one side atop his neatly made bed while facing the now utterly confused Tim; the most notable thing being that his ski mask was up over his lips as the two stared at one another, with Tim’s body stiff in his confusion and book temporarily forgotten.

Tim’s heart was beating a hundred miles an hour at this point. Did he actually hear that? Was he finally going completely insane? Did he take his meds today? Where were --?”

“Ti-Tim.”

Hoody’s -- no,  _ Brian’s _ \-- lips moved as unused vocal cords strained under the intense pressure of being unused after well over a year of keeping silent. Yet they spoke with pure and utter force, with meaning as the two stared at one another. Tim’s expression showed that of surprise, mouth half opened as he blinked in attempt to process what he was hearing and if it were actually true; yet Hoody’s lips stayed straight, unmoving except to speak, as Tim’s mind tried to wrap around what was happening.

“Ti- _ Tim _ .”

“ _ What _ ?” 

Tim didn’t mean for that to come out as loud nor angry as it did, causing him to jump alongside Hoody at the sudden noise that escaped his own lips. Hoody’s lips parted again to speak -- yet all that came out were squeaks and huffs, as if his vocal cords could no longer handle the strain of speaking so much after so long. Likely seeing speaking was no longer useful, Hoody was quick to pull the mask back over his lips and shuffle until he was lying down on his bed, hands behind his head as he relaxed as if nothing had just happened.

This left Tim to stare at the other for a few more moments, head still reeling from what he had just heard. He had half a mind to prod further, but considering Tim still hadn’t quite decipered what Hoody’s hand movements meant (some, but not all) to the extent needed to communicate, Tim opted to instead return to his book; both baffled by the fact that he had heard his friend’s voice for the first time in over two years, and slightly elated at the fact that Hoody could actually talk. 

Hoody.

Tim wasn’t sure if it was actually Brian rising from within to speak with him, or Hoody attempting to find a voice instead of merely motioning what he wanted. But Tim wasn’t going to complain; so long as Tim could hear that lovely voice -- even  _ if _ it belonged to someone else now -- once more, then everything was going to be alright in his book.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which feelings are finally admitted. Major fluff ahead.

It took a year and some odd months before Hoody - or rather,  _ Brian _ began to fully speak, much less relearn all that he had lost. His voice often trembled when he spoke, sputtered and stuttered; so unused to speaking that it almost seemed painful. Tim was ever patient with the other, often helping to pronounce words or simply sitting back and waiting until the other managed to stutter out what he was going to say. That could often take a few minutes at a time, but Tim was ever patient and waited calmly until the other was finished speaking before replying. Brain seemed ever grateful for that.

It would come to Tim that the one speaking, the one who revealed a face that was slowly regaining color and eyes that began to shine like stars again, that this person was not simply just a shell for Hoody -- but rather, Brian had been hiding in there somewhere, waiting to make some sort of return. His body had been far too broken, Hoody had once explained through writing -- he still didn’t seem too sure about talking, even as his vocal cords began to function once more through Brian -- for the human to withstand it. Entities such as himself, who overtook bodies for their own use as zombies or puppets before being discarded like ragdolls, were more than capable of reusing bodies that were mangled and distorted and broken. Humans, however, could not sustain their lives nor very souls in a body deemed dead; so they had often simply left it for the afterlife. All except, of course, for Brian.

Slender had been unknowingly swift in Hoody’s reincarnation. Brian’s spirit had held steady, nearly clutching on by strings by the time the Operator had found the fallen body and brought it to life through unknown and ancient means so his Proxy could still live on. Brian had been too weak from waiting, too weak from the fall, too weak from his death to overtake the hooded man for control of his body; and so had lied dormant until he could regain his strength and begin the struggle for dominance once more in his body. Yet, Hoody did not decline -- hence the sudden outburst of speech followed by almost two years of relearning how to talk. Hoody was still there, of course. Still there to take over when it came time to kill, when Brian knew he couldn’t do it but knew he  _ had _ to for fear of the Operator sending him back to the grave.

That didn’t mean it was the same old Brian, of course. It came to their knowledge that through being overtaken by Hoody even before his substaquensl death, when he had first become Hoody and began taking so many different pills, that Brian’s memory was more than just hazy. He remembered Tim, of course, and that the two were close friends. But that was primarily due to Hoody’s input; anything else often came to him as a blank, or some random dream or memory. It often came down to Tim either questioning Brian into remembering, or jogging his memory with memories of his own. That was how Brian seemed to enjoy it; enjoyed Tim talking almost endlessly when asked about a certain event or point in time he was unsure about, almost to the point of rambling on and on if not for Brian laughingly telling him that that was enough.

Which was how it came to the two walking down the sidewalk during the late hours, heading to another location the Operator had sent them to. Something about an informant for the government that they needed to either kill or scare the shit out of into submission. He had also been known to solicit young, underaged girls into sex -- which meant Tim and Brian were more than happy to take the first option, if not have a little bit of sadistic fun with him first. They walked steadily along the almost empty streets of the otherwise barren city, face masks hidden away so as to appear as normal as possible as they walked.

“So, if you don’t remember anything from when you were a kid,” Tim was saying, slicking back his hair as he spoke, “do you remember anything from college? I mean, that’s about as close as it can get to recently, right?  _ And _ Hoody must’ve been there for some of that,  _ right _ ?”

“I guess,” Brian said with a shrug, kicking at a small rock in his path. Said rock went tumbling several feet ahead of them and quickly forgotten. “I mean, I remember we went to college and --  _ bad stuff _ made this happen to us, but that’s about it except for what you’ve told me.”

“Hm, fair enough,” shrugged Tim as they rounded a corner and passed by a man as he meandered his way past them. Both men gave the lone one a nod, and he almost seemed to give them an odd, distrusting look as they passed. Hopefully, that wouldn’t mean this man would be a problem. “You gotta remember  _ something _ , at least,” Tim egged on with a sigh, stretching his arms out in front of him. “At least  _ one _ thing, right? Where did you work over the summer? Who’d you like back in college? Come on, gimme  _ something _ !” Even Brian couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips from the persistent badgering from the other, yet 

“Well, I mean, I  _ might, _ ” Brian shrugged, “but it doesn’t seem too important. Not sure you’d even  _ wanna _ know.”

“Come on!” Tim tried. “You can tell me. You know that!”

“I mean -- I kinda do,” shrugged Brian, “but, it -- it’s kinda stupid.” Brian chuckled lightly. “Might even scare you off. Or make you hate me.” Tim chuckled.

“I don’t know about  _ that _ ,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. “I work for a faceless entity and live with a bunch of monsters that would kill me in a heartbeat if I didn’t have its ‘protection’. Hell, Jeff’s tried to kill me four different times now, and I’ve only known the dude like, what? A year? Whatever. What I’m saying is, it  _ has _ t’ be important if you remember it, right? So, c’mon, tell me!”

Even Brian chuckled at that, lips parting in a smile and showing that adorable gap in his front teeth. Yet his eyes still focused on the ground as they walked, Tim’s still fighting between looking in front them and to Brian as he patiently awaited his response. Tim was close to elbowing the other, reminding him that he was still there and awaiting a response, when --

“I remembered I love you.”

Tim’s eyes widened, breath hitching; heart beating one thousand times a minute as he locked onto the figure that trotted beside him. Did Brian just say what he really thought he said? He wasn’t sure his mental health could take much more if he hadn’t.

“You…. love me?” Tim asked, spit he tried to swallow going down like molasses. Brian nodded, eyes still glued to the concrete beneath their feet as they walked. A small smile began slowly creeping onto Tim’s face.

“Yeah,” Brian spoke softly, pushing his hands into his jacket pocket. “Th-that was one of the first things I remembered, I think, when I tried -- erhm, I guess pushing my way to the surface would be the best way to describe getting out of Hoody’s control.”

Tim tried to control his shaking breathing, entertaining the idea of a cigarette rather quickly and without remorse. Brian turned his head slightly to give him a look -- a look Tim remembered all too well, assuring him it was indeed his best friend that he was talking to. Brian never liked him smoking, had always tried to get him to stop for his health. Tim had tried to, for a time; if not for his health, then the man who didn’t know he was in love with him practically begging him to if not for his health, then  _ him _ . Brian had never understood how much those words -- “For me, Tim? Please?” -- actually  _ meant _ to Tim; that it could likely get Tim to go as far as pulling a Nicholas Cage and stealing the Declaration of Independence if only Brian had said, “Steal it  _ for me _ , Tim?”

“I-I don’t remember when it started,” Brain admitted as he rambled on, “or if it ever stopped. Just that I did. That I  _ do _ . I think that’s how I fought off Hoody’s advances before if I had the energy -- because I loved you, and he couldn’t hurt you if I only fought for you,  _ thought _ of you.” Brian shook his head then, a light tint overcoming his cheeks. “I-It’s stupid and  _ gay _ , I know,” he said with a chuckle, looking to Tim for some sort of affirmation. “Sorry if I’m making you feel weird.”

Tim felt a chuckle rise in his own throat then as he took a puff of his cigarette; though whether it was a nervous chuckle or not, he couldn’t be too sure.

“You’re good,” Tim replied. “I mean -- I’ve been stupid  _ and _ gay since I met you, and you’re still friends with me, huh?”

A look of confusion passed over Brian’s face then, and it took Tim’s brain a moment to register that Brian stopped suddenly before his body caught up; stopping a few feet ahead of the other and turning to him to give him a look of confusion. The streets were pretty barren now, void of all life but them as they had been walking along. It seemed lonely, even.

“I -- wait,  _ what _ ?” Brain asked, a hint of laughter bubbling up in his throat. “You’re  _ gay _ ? And here I thought you were straighter than a two by four this whole time!”

“I -- well, I mean,” Tim shrugged, taking another drag of the cigarette, “I  _ was _ straight. Or, at least, I  _ thought _ I was straight for the longest time.”

“Until when?” Brian asked, now mobile again and moving towards the other. “And  _ why _ ? What made you change your mind?”

“I -- Uh, well,” Tim sputtered, looking to the ground; Brian’s shoes quickly joined his vision when the other seemed to realize Tim wasn’t quite ready to start walking again. “When I met  _ you _ , I guess.”

And it was true. While Tim had spent most of his life in hospitals for the mentally ill, he had rarely thought about his sexuality, much less had time to date until he could age out and make his own decisions; or, at the very least, sign himself out of the mental hospital his mother had last left him in. He had always thought he was straight at best, a-sexual at worst, and never really questioned it -- until he had gravitated towards Brian, the upbeat kid in college that seemed to catch everyone’s attention and made friends with anyone he had come into contact with. Tim hadn’t planned to make such things in college, naturally; simply wanting to get his degree and start the next phase of his life in peace and forget his childhood completely.

But Brian was a shining star that everyone gravitated to, and while Tim wasn’t the one who approached anyone of his own accord, much less accepted prompts of speech from anyone else; he couldn’t deny Brian when the young man sat down beside him during their second week in maths, babbling up a storm and obviously trying to make friends with Tim even when the raven haired had shown he’d rather keep to his back corner of the class and not be bothered by anyone else in the class unless needed for group work. But there Brian had been, obviously attempting to make a connection with him as he had done everyone else. And it being Brian, it was hard for Tim to decline.

Which was what had led them to their friendship, to moving into the same dorm mid year and keeping it that way for the next few. That was what led Tim to slowly come out of his shell, easily making connections with Brian’s friends and showing he wasn’t just some snobby emo wanting to be left alone. That he craved friendship, conversations, late night adventures and what have yous. He wasn’t sure when exactly he had fallen so deep for Brian, just that he  _ had _ . And it had felt so naturally so that he couldn’t deny it to himself, yet so eagerly kept secret. Brian wouldn’t have felt the same way in return -- or so Tim had thought.

“Tim? Timmy?”

Tim hadn’t realized Brian had been talking to him until a hand gently grasped his shoulder and shook lightly. Yet Tim still jumped, inhaling a sharp breath as he turned his head upwards to look the other in the eye. Brian stared down in return, a look of concern covering his usually stoic face. Yet his cheeks seemed even more lined with a red tint as they stared at one another.

“You -- you’re serious?” he asked incredulously. “A-about you and me and -” Brian seemed to cut himself off, as if the words couldn’t form fast enough for his lip to produce the sounds needed.

Tim gave a brisk nod, head quickly going back to the ground as he turned to start their little journey again, anxiety riddling up inside of him now. But the hand on his shoulder stopped him, half forcing him to stumble back slightly and face Brian again. The dirty blonde had a rather large grin on his face, just barely showing the adorable little gap in his teeth again as he looked down to his partner in crime. Tim’s brow furrowed, though he couldn’t help the small smile that formed in return. 

The hand hadn’t moved from its position; instead using it to pull him into a tight embrace that he couldn’t find it in him to simply pull away from or deny. Tim was just short enough compared to Brian, that his face (namely, nose and below) were instantly enveloped into the other’s shoulder as strong arms wrapped around him. Tim felt his body relax for the first time in what felt like ages, cigarette being lost to the ground as his arms slowly, carefully, wrapped around the other as they stayed like that for what felt like an entirety.

And if Tim could, he would surely keep it that way.

*******

“So -- does this mean we’re a thing now?”

Brain laid on his bed across their cramped room, lying on his back and looking to the ceiling mindlessly as he spoke. Tim found himself in a similar position. Granted, his eyes were focused on the figure across the room, hands folded over his chest as he watched the other closely as if prying his eyes off of him would allow the other to disappear from existence entirely. Which he might as well might have, knowing their current situation. So Tim rolled onto his side to better eye the other, face now half buried into his pillow. He was still tired of their earlier mission, which had lasted them longer than they had both intended and unable to delve further into their earlier conversation. Yet with a couple days rest that they were guaranteed, now seemed almost as good a time as any.

“I mean,” Tim spoke slowly, looking momentarily to the floor with his heart beating a thousand times a minute, “that makes us sound like teenagers, but -- if that’s what you want.” Brain turned his gaze to Tim then, brow raised.

“Is it what  _ you _ want, though?” he asked, ever the concerned man he was.

“Considering I’ve wanted to since we met in college,” Tim snorted, “ _ yeah _ .”

“You just never had the balls to ask?” Brian joked, a half smile playing on his lips. Tim fake glared and genuinely raised brow at the other, causing him to laugh. “You’re right,” he went on as he looked back to the ceiling, “I didn't have the balls either, obviously. Else I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Not like you needed to,” Tim huffed as he looked back to the ceiling. There came a questioning hum from the other side of the room, prompting Tim to continue. “We could’ve just started going out on dates or something -- I dunno -- and I probably would’ve just accepted the fact that we were dating, ya know?”

“You’re such an  _ idiot _ ,” Brian snorted, his bed moving underneath him as he shifted, hands moving over his face as if in exasperation.

“Yeah, well,” Tim snorted in return, shifting himself to lay on his side facing Brian and propping his head on his hand, “guess I’m  _ your  _ idiot now, huh?” 

Brian removed the hands he had put onto face, brown eyes lit up in such a manner that Tim was sure his heart skipped a few beats as he stared back. Without much of a question, Brian half scattered from his bed almost  _ too _ merrily, his own single pillow in tow and surprising Tim as he half threw himself over Tim and landed in bed next to the other against the wall; though the raven haired man couldn’t help the hearty chuckle he released as he turned over to properly face the other -- and earning Brian a surprised sound as soft lips gently touched the tip of Tim’s nose. This earned a stifled giggle from Brian at the sound that had escaped Tim.

“You’re…. Actually kinda adorable when you’re flustered, you know?” Brian asked with a coy smirk, earning another furrowed brow from Tim. “What! You are!” Brian now laughed. 

Tim’s expression seemed to soften at the sound, now rolling his eyes as a hand slowly, hesitantly, reached for the other’s side and resting gently atop it. Brian hummed, one of his own hands resting atop the other as they lay there with easy comfort.

“You’re an  _ idiot _ ,” Tim huffed.

“Yeah,” Brian snorted, eyes soft as he scanned the other’s face, “but I guess I’m you’re idiot, too, huh?”

Tim grunted in response, lips forming a slow smile as Brian slowly, carefully leaned in -- and Tim not denying the gentle pressure on his lips as their eyes fluttered closed. Yeah, he could stay like this forever -- and even if he died tomorrow, Timothy Wright would surely die a happy man.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Toby.

_You Fell Asleep In My Car,_

_I Drove the Whole Time_

_But That’s Ok, I’ll Just Avoid_

_The Holes So You’ll Sleep Fine_

Three years.

Tim honestly thought he would have been dead right now, shot or stabbed and left to die somewhere, if not left to rot in prison or mental asylum for the rest of his days. Before this -- or, at least, _most_ of this -- he might have preferred it. He would have at least been guaranteed three meals a day, a roof over his head and a room somewhat to himself. But, now -- well, he couldn’t really say he would’ve changed _this_ for _that_. Especially with a sleeping Brian, whose back was pressed firmly against his side as he slept, facing the door with Tim lying on his back and arm curled around him as tightly as possible. And, naturally, the much taller Brian was attempting to use as much of Tim as a pillow as possible and almost awkwardly as possible; head torn between laying on his bicep and shoulder with his arms tightly latching upon Tim’s lower arm and firmly preventing him from escaping.

God, why was he so adorable when he slept?

Tim shifted as slowly as he could, until his front was gently pressed against the other’s back. Brian shifted in sleep, muttering something as his head gently slipped from the other’s shoulder and onto the pillow below. Tim was just glad he didn’t wake up; though he couldn’t say he was wholly glad of Brian grabbing onto the arm that curled around his chest, body backing up firmly against the other. He might have been risking a bathroom trip later else he woke up Brian - but for him, Tim couldn’t really say he minded at this point.

So long as Brian was there, everything was going to be alright.

*******

When they were called, there was no shouting, no banging of doors or windows or feet pounding against old, decaying wood that belonged to the rickety floors, no voices screeching and groaning in their minds and calling out to them. Instead, there was static and silence.

Tim’s head lifted from his pillow, body tensing as the sound filled every crevice of his mind. Brian’s brow furrowed as he looked up from his book to the door, before sighing and moving from Tim’s grasp and off the bed. Tim followed suit quickly, grabbing his mask off of the bedside table as Brian pulled his own mask over his head and exited the door with Tim -- Masky close behind.

The house was eerily quiet as they tramped through the hall and down the stairs. If not asleep, then the residents that frequented here were likely out doing god knows what. And Masky was sure that if they were anything like him, then he didn’t _want_ to know (especially with Laughing Jack and Eyeless Jack; he had read up enough on the two to know he _definitely_ did _not_ want to know). Downstairs was in a similar state, except --

Hoody reached out an arm to stop Masky in his tracks as they entered the living room. Masky opened his mouth to complain, however snapped his lips shut as Hoody gestured to a figure sitting in the far corner; arms wrapped around their legs and face hidden in their knees as they sat, back heaving as if having trouble breathing -- or an anxiety attack, which seemed to be quite common among some of the residents here. They weren’t wearing any clothes that made them easily identifiable as to who it might be. The grey and blue striped jacket they wore was in tatters, alongside the jeans and sneakers they wore. Only a few here wore jackets constantly, and even Masky made those identifying features for those who did (Jeff and Hoody especially, considering they rarely took theirs off).

“The hell’re _you_?” Masky all but spat, earning the figure’s attention quickly.

Eyes widened through oranges goggles instantly stared up at him as the figure -- a young man, if not a boy by either of their standards, Masky quickly deduced -- with their mouth covered by a face mask that was otherwise black besides the opened smile seemingly sketched onto it. The teenager quickly tried to huddle further into the corner he was sitting in, looking in between the two wearily as Hoody turned his head to Masky to give him a stern look. Masky opened his mouth to speak once more, to demand a response from this stranger --

<“One of you, my child,”> came the eerie voice of the Operator as he carefully maneuvered his way from the kitchen to stand at their sides. The kid in the corner was visibly trembling now, eyes locked on the Tall Man as Masky and Hoody gave him questioning looks.

“You mean -- a Proxy?” Masky asked slightly. He looked to the kid then, eyes narrowing. “He looks like a _kid_ \-- not a cold blooded killer.”

<“You would be surprised,”> Slenderman mused as he practically glided his way past the other two towards the teen; of whom tried his damndest to curl further into his little corner and caused the Tall Man to stop a few feet short of him. <“Regardless,”> Slender went on, turning his head back towards the other two, < “he will need help adjusting to this life. He has minimal memories of his previous life, that I made sure of. You two will keep an eye on him until he is ready to join you in the field.”>

“What? So we’re babysitters now?” Masky scoffed even as Hoody cautiously made his way beside their leader. “Couldn’t you just have BEN or someone _else_ help him ‘adjust’?”

<“Considering he is more human than _that_ ,”> the Operator hummed, turning and easily gliding back to where Masky still stood between the kitchen door and small hallway to the front door, <“and you two are more -- sound of mind, I should say, then BENjamin or the others when it comes to dealing with humans, I find it more suitable that you two become his caretakers for the time being.”>

Masky had little time to complain further; the Operator moving swiftly to the front door and then out and leaving the three in utter silence. Masky found himself fuming at the thought. Of _course_ he would ask them to babysit! It wasn’t like Slender knew exactly how to care for humans properly, and of course he’d want them to aid the other in being a Proxy even though he and Hoody had to figure it out mostly on their own (they had each other; but it was still a totally different story entirely when dealing and working with an Eldritch entity). Masky supposed it wouldn’t be _too_ bad. At least Brian - erhm, _Hoody_ \- would be there to help, and perhaps he could persuade him to take on the bulk of the responsibility, at least anything other than physical training (of which Masky could _easily_ handle).

“Ge-get aw- _away_ fr-from me!”

The sudden new voice snapped Masky both from his thoughts and from the door which he had unknowingly been glaring at as he thought. His gaze shifted back to the corner where the teen sat, only to find him still there -- yet Hoody had moved to almost right in front of the other and had squatted down, arms slung over his own thighs with his head tilted to one side as if curious or examining the other. Masky huffed and moved towards the other two, only for Hoody’s head to whip around and surprising the other two as he shook his head quickly. Masky’s face scrunched up under his mask, but did as he was ‘told’; stopping close to the middle of the room and putting his hands in his pockets as Hoody’s stare returned to the teen.

“I-i --,” the teen stuttered, curling more into himself as he too focused his attention on Hoody once more. He gulped, as if unable to find words as his body trembled in what was most likely fright and confusion. “...... I-I want t-to _go_ ,” he said simply; yet Masky felt himself understanding more than he would have liked.

“Don’t we all, kid?” he scoffed, again earning the boy’s attention. His face seemed to scrunch up in some form of hate and annoyance.

“I-I’m n-not a ki-kid,” he stuttered out. “I-I’m n-ni-ninet-teen.”

“Still a kid t’ me,” Masky again scoffed with a shrug, earning him another quick ‘glare’ from Hoody. The teen still glared, though his vision only stayed on Masky momentarily before looking back to Hoody.

“I-I sai-said, _get a-away_ ,” he practically hissed, brown eyebrows furrowed in hate. Yet Hoody still remained, albeit his head was no longer tilted to the side.

“Not until you get up, kid,” Masky mused. “We were _kinda_ in the middle of, you know, trying _to sleep_ when the big buy decided to drop you in our care. Besides, considering he didn’t say where your room was, I’m guessin’ you’re stayin’ with _us_ until you get one and you _kinda_ need to know where your room is.”

Hoody stood up at that, causing the teen to jump slightly -- and then momentarily flinch as a glove covered hand was reached out to him, signaling that Hoody wanted to help the poor kid to his feet. The teen in question stared up at the other, seemingly baffled at such a kind gesture. Then, slowly, hesitantly, his own gloved hand reached out to Hoody’s; taking it and allowing himself to be half pulled up onto somewhat wobbly legs.

It was then that Masky realized, in the dim light filtering from the kitchen and what little light seeped through the window from the moon, that there appeared to be burn marks on varying parts of the teen’s clothing; if not burned black, then gaping holes where a fire of some sort took hold. That must have been part of his story somehow, Masky mused as the other two’s hands dropped and Hoody motioned for the teen to follow him. Brown eyes under his orange goggles darted to the other to, then to the door and back as if thinking of a means of escape.

“Don’t try it, _kid_ ,” Masky spoke. “There won’t be many places you can hide in _his_ domain, trust me. And it’s not like you’ll know how to get out.”

“Hi-his do-domain?” the teen stuttered, hesitantly following Hoody who had patiently paused to wait for him; Masky turning towards the stairs to make his way up them when both chose to actually follow. “Y-you me-mean we’re n-not -- not o-on Earth any-anymore?”

Hoody’s shoulders shook, as if laughing at the other’s words.

“Yes and no, I guess,” Masky shrugged; footfalls inching closer to him and suggesting the other two were actually following now. “It’s a different dimension, I think -- but it’s still earth, as far as I can tell. We still get regular seasons and day and night cycles at the same time as when we’re -- well, in the upper world, I guess.”

Their footsteps were loud as they thudded up the stairs; Masky first, followed by the hesitant new Proxy and Hoody close behind, as if Hoody was keeping the other from actually darting out the front door like he had earlier thought. The teen still looked over his shoulder at the other even as they ascended to the landing and down the morbidly dark hallway which seemed to continue indefinitely.

“Yo-you me-mean we-we’re in --?” 

“Why the hell’re you still stutterin’?” Masky cut in. “I know the big guy’s scary as all hell, but trust me - we aren’t gonna kill ‘r hurt you, or else we would’ve already.”

“I-It’s a con- _condition_ ,” the teen practically spat; the venom in his voice that had suddenly stepped in front of his small, shaking tone that surprised even Masky and made him glance back at the other. His brow was furrowed, and if Masky would have to guess, he had a scowl underneath that Mask.

“Ah, well, my apologies.”

The teen still glared at him even as Masky turned attention back to the hallway in front -- and then their door as he stopped in front of it. It was Masky’s turn to glare when the kid ran into his back with an ‘oof,’ followed by a muttered apology. Masky only shook his head before opening their door and slinking his way in.

Their room was quite boring, really. Aside from the three beds (one having been more than unused as there had only been two of them for the longest time; Brian’s had long since been unused once the two had started sharing a bed, however the bed was still nicely made with blankets and a couple of pillows if one ever needed it), two bedside tables and two dressers, it was otherwise barren of any furniture. Neither Brian, Tim or their alter egos really needed much besides what they were given, and so while others of the household decorated their rooms to their heart’s content, theirs stayed bland and boring. Which was all fine and dandy by them, really. Didn’t want it feeling too much like home when they were for certain the house itself was merely their keeper until they met their deaths.

“You can have the bed we haven’t been using,” Masky informed as he made his way over to his - and essentially Hoody’s - bed as he nodded to the barren one near the window. “Think there’s extra blankets in the hall closet - uh, Hoods?”

The man in the mustard colored hoodie nodded, leaving the room temporarily from where he had come in behind the boy to retrieve what Masky spoke of. Said kid made his way hesitantly into the center of the room after Hoody left, eyes travelling around its barren interior.

“Se-Seems co-cozy,” he muttered after a moment, finally taking the hood that hid his head to reveal messy, curly brown locks. 

He was quiet for a moment as Masky watched him closely, sitting on the edge of his bed with his arms resting on his legs. This kid was tall, he had to admit. Not entirely taller than Hoody, but surely taller than Masky. And his jacket practically clung to his slender looking frame. Hell, he was even surprised that the teen’s pants had held up for so long without a belt. Was this kid starved or something back home? He assumed he wouldn’t ever know, considering the Operator had spoken of taking most of his memories. And when the goggles went up, they revealed his eyes to be less orange and more a bright green with obvious bags underneath them.

The teen finally broke his gaze away from the room itself and Tim from the teen as Hoody returned, gesturing the blankets he held in his arms to the teen. They were all one bland color, but Masky assumed it didn’t quite matter what color the sheets and bedspread were; they would likely still get stained with blood from their kills eventually. The kid muttered a thanks as he moved to his ‘new’ bed; Hoody moving to his old bed and grabbing the pillows and dropping them at the kid’s bedside as he began to make his bed, who muttered more thanks in return.

“Trust me,” Masky spoke as the kid finished with the fitted sheet and moved for the other sheet where he piled them atop the pillows, grabbing for the cigarettes on his bedside table as Hoody plopped down beside him, “it won’t be _too_ bad from here on out. At least - I mean - you won’t get killed by the big guy if you play your cards right.” 

Hoody turned his head to give him another presumed glare as Masky shrugged, lifting his mask up enough to show his lips and placing a cigarette between them before switching the pack itself for his lighter.

“Th-the bi-big guy,” the kid spoke slowly, turning his face towards the two for a second as he spoke. “Yo-you me-mean the fa-faceless ma-man, right?”

“The big guy, Slenderman, the Faceless One, the Operator, the Tall Man, Slendy,” Masky said with a shrug, taking a puff of his now lit cigarette as he sat the light back down with his pack. “We all have different names for him around here.” The teen’s body tensed up right before he finished with the sheet, eyes slightly wide as he looked back at the two again.

“‘W-we al-all’? Yo-you mean th-there’s mo-more people li-like _us_ he-here?”

“Not _quite_ like us,” Masky shrugged as Hoody shook his head. “I mean, all of ‘em are insane killers, _yeah_. But they’re not Proxys.” Hoody elbowed Masky then, earning a, “What?” before ashing his cigarette and another shrug in return.

The teen only nodded in response, moving to return to his task of making his bed as the other two silently sat; a gloved hand moving onto Masky’s thigh of which he placed his own hand over while he smoked with the other. At least the kid wasn’t trying to run or anything; Masky figured he would have by now, considering his earlier eyeing of the front door. But he wasn’t going to be the one to chase after the kid; there were enough monsters that resided here that could easily kill him, and he didn’t feel like running into one in the forest that would easily kill him without the remorse or hesitancy as did the others here (though Masky had long since blamed that on the Operator; while disposable, he wasn’t likely going to be happy if one of his little Proxys were to wind up dead by one of _their_ hands).

It wasn’t until the teen spoke again, his cigarette almost gone and Hoody having rested his head on Masky’s shoulder, that Masky remembered that he was still even there.

“I-I’m To-Tobias.”

“Do what?” Masky blinked, deciding to put out his cigarette then so he wouldn’t accidentally burn the bed sheets (Brian was still miffed about the last time, he was sure).

“M-my na-ame,” the teen stuttered, moving to sit down carefully on his now neatly made bed with Hoody seemingly waking up from his small nap, “i-it’s To-Tobias Ro-Rodgers. Bu-but you ca-can call me To-Toby.”

It seemed to take Masky another moment to register what the teen - _Toby_ \- had said to him, and another moment with an added bump from Hoody to realize that he was actually supposed to respond.

“Call me Masky,” the masked man replied as he put out his cigarette in the ashtray on his bedside table. “And this here’s Hoody.” He gestured to the figure beside him, who gave a half hearted wave with his ‘free’ hand. Toby snorted.

“Wow, s- _so_ cr-creative,” he spoke as his worn tennis shoes were kicked off his feet and half heartedly shoved underneath his newly claimed bed before he swung his legs atop the creaky mattress. “Th-think I’m go-gonna go t-to bed,” Toby muttered as he laid his lanky frame down and turned so his back faced the other two.

Masky couldn’t find it in himself to blame him, he mused as he reached to turn off the lamp at his bedside table. Hoody shuffled to the inside of the bed and laid down as Masky shifted to lay himself down as well in the hopes of slumber quickly coming to them. His own mask was removed and sat back in its previous place as he shifted to face the other figure; arms wrapped slowly around his waist and latched on almost protectively. Masky - Tim hummed at the feeling as he wrapped an arm of his own around the other, the feeling of a lightly beard covered face making him shudder lightly at the contact as it rubbed against his cheek.

Yes, this would be fine. Everything would be fine.

*******

Morning came faster than Tim would’ve liked. He had to stifle the groan that threatened to escape his lips as he stretched his short, bulky frame. Brian shifted beside him, the arms wrapped around his waist tightening as he gave a quiet whimper in his sleep and nuzzled his face further into the crook of Tim’s neck. The raven haired man had to now stifle a giggle at the facial hair that rubbed against his bare neck. Tim shifted as so his back faced the door, arms wrapping around Brian and earning an almost content sigh as his head nuzzled its way under Tim’s chin; again, Tim found himself having to stifle a giggle at the feeling of Brian’s scruff against his bare skin. Waking up like this, next to someone as the sun slowly rose above the horizon, felt more comforting than it should have. But his burly frame felt like mush in the other’s arms, as lovey dovey as that sounded. But it was as if Brian had brought that out in him. Brian brought out a lot of odd things out in Tim, the majority of which Tim had only allowed Brian to see.

It had been almost eight months - Tim had aptly kept track better than had kept track of anything else anymore, it seemed - since that beautiful day, since they had become one. And while they lived in an eternal hell (literally; they nor anyone else seemed to age once they came into contact with the Operator or whatever they went through to gain their abilities, so both he and Brian assumed they would remain ageless until the end of time or until the Tall Man decided to dispose of them), Tim thought he could make it until the end of time. So long as Brian would have him for that long, of course.

A sound from somewhere else in the room caused Tim to tense. At first, his mind didn’t recall the night prior as it raced. Visions of something crawling through the window to slit their throats, or one of the other residents playing a not so innocent trick. He was glad he was in front of Brian then, acting as a shield from whatever was coming at them --

Only to realize as he was already half reaching for his mask on the bedside table and knife hidden away in the drawer when he saw Toby lying with his back still to them. The events of the night prior came flooding back to him instantly, though did nothing to quell his rising nerves. 

Toby was not stationary; tossing and twitching all the while still in a deep sleep. And -- he was whimpering? Tim’s face contorted from anger and concern to confusion, heart still racing but frame otherwise deathly still as he stared. He contemplated waking the other, though unsure of the reaction he’d receive. _Especially_ with the hatchet that lay beside the brunette in his bed. Must’ve retrieved it as a weapon, which Tim frankly couldn’t blame him for. He slept with varying weaponry hidden around the room, after all. Couldn’t _quite_ trust any of the residents to not try and kill you in your sleep; at least not without a weapon handy.

The bed creaked as Brian shifted slightly atop him, eye cracking open ever so slightly as he too seemed to wake due to the commotion (or due to his new pillow having moving him to such an odd angle, one couldn’t be too sure), only to grow visibly more concerned at the sight before him.

“Is he alright?” Brian asked softly, brow furrowing as he shifted until he was sitting up while staring at the other, concerned.

“I think,” muttered Tim in response as he slowly, carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed while simultaneously grabbing his mask to put on.

Brian quickly joined him. Faster than Tim could react, however, Brian was out of bed and practically tiptoeing across the room -- face mask not even properly on -- and over to Toby’s bed to stand hesitantly next to it. Tim stood instantly as his mask was slipped on, eyes still trained on the hatchet that lay beside the teen.

“ _Brian,_ ” Tim practically hissed.

But of course Brian didn’t listen, a hand landing onto Toby’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze and shake. Before he could speak, the new Proxy shot up with a sudden shout, eyes wide as a heavily shaking hand fumbled to attempt to grasp his weapon with little luck. Tim strode forward swiftly then as Brian tried to calm the new kid, grabbing the hatchet just as Toby barely managed to grasp at it in time.

“I wouldn’t try anything with us,” Tim -- _Masky_ spoke sternly just as Toby pushed himself so he sat with his back against the wall, knees curled up into his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them. “It’ll end up way worse for you, trust me.”

Toby merely sniffled in response as Brian straightened, giving Masky a sideways glare before returning his attention to Toby again.

“Don’t listen to him,” Brian said. “He can be a grouch sometimes, but his bark is worse than his bite.” It was Masky’s turn to glare at Brian, though went unnoticed as he continued to speak. “Hey, how about breakfast? I’m sure we can whip up some bacon or waffles or som--”

“Waffles?!” Toby perked up instantly, any fear and confusion he had gone. He almost seemed excited about them.

Masky grumbled as he took an annoyed step back while Brian offered Toby a hand which he gladly took. This kid was kinda weird, Masky mused to himself as he allowed the other two to move from the bed and towards the door while following them closely. He made a mental note to ask him to elaborate about his weird ticks and twitches, but for now he supposed he might as well get something to eat if Brian was cooking. Food was annoying thing to have to constantly make, but humans needed food and Tim was _rarely_ helpful on an empty stomach.

** *****

Six months. The kid wasn’t _too_ bad. A little annoying sometimes, sure. But he was alright. His twitching often caused him to screw up during training, but Tim and Masky both assumed that wasn’t _too_ bad. Brian was, almost naturally, kind towards the teen; using at least the basic first aid he could recall whenever he had his manic episodes.

Those episodes -- the first time Tim found Toby in the communal bathroom, bleeding from his hands and face while staring blankly into the bathroom mirror; he had been scared shitless. Was this how the others had felt when they found him having a seizure? If so -- dear _god_ , he couldn’t blame Jay for being so freaked out when it happened around him before. He was just glad Brian was still home when he found him; else it might not have ended as calmly as it had. These episodes were infrequent and didn’t appear to have the same triggers each and every time. He spoke of voices, too -- ones that didn’t sound Operator related when Brian relayed information to him -- that didn’t quite sound akin to Masky or Hoody. They were much more malicious, ill-kept. Medication didn’t seem to help as much as it did with Tim or Brian, either.

Speaking of Brian -- Hoody seemed more active during Toby’s time at the house. While at first the persona only appeared occasionally, Tim now found the hooded figure ‘visiting’ at least once a day, if not to meander around the house and visit with the other residents, then to mull about with Tim and Toby. Though more so Toby in particular, Tim noticed. He didn’t mind _too_ much; gave someone Toby to bother that _wasn’t_ him and for that reprieve Tim was glad. Now if only the ticking teen would ignore him like that _all_ the time.

Shopping was one of the few times Tim was granted such solace. He and Brian were often tasked with such ‘meaningful’ activities, mostly because they were some of the few who actually used their money for _useful_ things (though, considering BEN _probably_ didn’t eat like the normal folk, they couldn’t really berate him there; but he was one of the few who could get away with it) and such took it upon themselves to do the shopping. And Toby coming along would likely mean slipping things into their cart they didn’t need at best, or complete and utter chaos at worst. And neither felt like dealing with that in public. Not when they wanted to feel _normal_.

“We could always make some stuff to make a big pot of beef stew,” Brian was saying as he pushed their cart along the tiled floors of the store as the duo seemed to aimlessly wander. Already there were a few groceries and necessities inside. “It’d probably last us a _week_ at _least_. And we’d be saving money on food in the long run, right?”

“Probably,” Tim shrugged as they passed by isles and isles of clothing on either side of them on their way to the other side of the store. “I mean, I guess I wouldn’t know. Lived off of ramen in college, since it was the cheapest thing.”

Brian rolled his eyes, though couldn’t help the smirk that played on his lips. Tim could only offer another shrug, as if that answered it. Brian could easily forget Tim wasn’t the cook out of the two; even with his minimal memories and recollection of past events, the dirty blond still had a knack for cooking. Or, at least, not setting something on fire and burning everything down. 

Tim paused suddenly as they walked as he noticed something out of his line of vision. He turned his head to get a better look at it -- and his body was suddenly moving of its own accord, moving in front of the clothing rack as he stared at the clothing in question, face deadpanned. It took a moment for his companion to notice he was no longer with him; Brian halting the shopping cart to give Tim a confused look.

“Tim? You okay?” Brian asked as he moved to rejoin his partner -- and then give a sudden, curt laugh at what the other was staring at. “Oh my _god_ ,” he said in almost disbelief as a hand reached out to grapes lightly at the fabric, “are those _pajamas_ with _waffles_ on them?!”

“ _Yup_ ,” Tim replied curtly, voice akin to his expression. Brian seemed to think for a moment before speaking again.

“Can we get a pair for Toby?” He almost sounded excited as he spoke. Tim seemed to consider the idea, before sighing. Brian was _almost_ sure he was going to reject it; they likely didn’t enough cash anyway and --

“Should get ‘em in a couple different sizes,” he muttered, stepping forward to begin rummaging through the varying yet identical pairs of pajamas hanging on the rack, “just t’ make sure we get ‘em the right fit.”

Brian seemed overly excited at the prospect, happily joining in on the fray with their cart of food temporarily forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait! I've been busy with life. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and hopefully the next will be up soon. Kudos and comments are appreciated.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Toby is adjusting quite well.

A year. It only took a year, and the kid was  _ already _ becoming annoying.

Not BEN level -- not quite, but he was pretty close. And Masky still had to  _ live _ with him!

But Tim supposed he would rather that than -- well, he wasn’t  _ too _ sure of the alternative, nor was he sure he  _ wanted  _ it per say. Perhaps anything other than  _ now _ , what with BEN and Toby shouting haphazardly at the video game they were currently playing in the living room. If he hadn’t decided to oh so promptly sit in the kitchen where he had deemed it ‘safe’, someone might have ended up on their arse; and it certainly wasn’t going to be Tim.

The man sighed, lifting up his mask just enough to sip his still piping hot coffee before slipping it back down, mug being placed gently on the table. Brian moved silently through the kitchen, mask hiding his own face as he cleaned up his dishes from breakfast. At least he didn’t threaten to burn down the house every time he cooked, which was probably the only reason why he was still allowed to cook in the first place.

“Clockwork said something about taking Sally to go camping,” Brian was saying as he piled more dishes into the slowly filling sink; stopping only once the sudes of the soap threatened to overtake the top. “Asked if we wanted t’ go.”

“And?” Tim asked curtly, quickly moving to take another sip of coffee -- and, momentarily forgetting about his mask, almost spilled the hot liquid on more undesirable places if not for the clinking of the mug gently rasping against the porcelain mask. Brain did his best - and utterly failed - at trying to hide his smirk as he began to scrub away at the dishes.

“Well, I told her I’d ask you,” Brian chuckled, “but Tobes seems really apt that we all go.” Tim snorted, earning a semi confused look. “What?” Brian asked, more clean dishes piling up on the empty side to be rinsed and set to dry.

“Nothin’,” shrugged Tim as he shifted his mask back around to sit properly. “Sounds fine by me. Big guy knows?”

“Knowing him, probably,” Brian snorted with a nod. “He knows  _ everything _ , remember?”

Tim gave a nod at that, but anything he was going to say was cut off by a shrill screech in the living room, followed by hurried footsteps. Sally was the first to come barging into the kitchen; quick to slide underneath the table and squirm her way into sitting in between Tim’s legs. Tim could hear a muffled snicker from Brian as the raven haired man gave the girl a rather confused look from underneath his mask as he shifted around to stare at her.

“Shhhh!” was her simple, giggling reply as she pulled Charlie close to her.

Sure enough, as Tim rolled his eyes and did his best to ignore whatever it was the girl was doing, in came Toby; heard first by his ticking and footsteps, and then seen poking his head into the room curiously.

“We-well I co-could’ve  _ sworn _ I-I saw he-her go into  _ he-here _ ,” spoke the teen loudly, hands on his hips as he entered the kitchen, quite obviously feigning being unable to find the girl that had run in moments before. 

Which, of course, was more than obvious from any vantage point within the kitchen; the table being quite high and there not being too much room between Tim’s legs for the girl to properly hide otherwise. That still didn’t stop her from trying to stifle a giggle as she pressed further into Tim’s legs. Surprisingly, the otherwise gruff man only gave a grunt in response to both question and girl, carefully taking another sip of his coffee before it got too cold.

“I could’ve  _ sworn _ I heard someone come in here earlier!” Brian played along with a roll of his eyes; plates easily drying as he moved onto smaller objects. “Maybe check in the fridge?”

“G-good id-idea!” Toby half ran to said appliance, right past the giggling ghost girl who watched him with large eyes as the ticking teen rounded the table to said appliance. The door opened and Toby poked his head inside, peering around with more insistence than needed. “Nope, n-not in here!” Toby said as he finally leaned out and allowed the door to slam shut.

Sally used said loud sound to quickly fumble from underneath the table and make a mad dash through the kitchen doorway and up the stairs at lightning speed while Toby’s back was turned. If said killer heard her, he pretended not to notice as he swung his frame around to look curiously around the room in thought.

“I know!” he said after a moment. “Maybe the bathroom!”

Toby darted out of the kitchen, leaving the two in a short silence as they watched him leave. Finally, Brian chuckled as he turned his attention back to the dishes.

“Fuckin’ nut,” Tim muttered as he took another sip of coffee.

“Aren’t we all a little nutty here,” snorted Brian as he put the last of the dishes to dry. 

Tim gave a grunt of acknowledgment -- he was right, in a sense. If someone in this house didn’t have some type of mental disorder in one way, shape or form, well -- why were they even here, then? Tim had always felt like an outcast to the outside world and, while he hated to admit it, living here with these odd people and creatures made him feel almost  _ normal _ compared to them. Well, as normal as a killer who worked under a faceless man alongside his boyfriend and a ticking killer could get.

*******

“Hey Masky! Hey Masky! Hey Masky! Hey Masky! Merskeh! Assky! Masky~!”

Tim squinted as he did his best to stare at the book in hand. Oh, how he wished The Operator hadn’t sent Brian out when he did; or, at the very least, had sent Tim alongside him. But of  _ course _ he wasn’t given such luxuries, and so was stuck back at home alongside a certain ticking time bomb that was Toby Rodgers. If the kid wasn’t so damned annoying, Tim  _ might _ not have minded being stuck with him. Nor would he have minded had there been someone  _ else _ he could annoy. But of course, the house was currently all void of life aside from them, the others out doing God knows what, leaving the two in isolation.

“Masky! Hey Ma--!”

“For the love of God,  _ what _ ?!” Tim all but shouted, maskless face whipping to stare the figure that stood at the side of his bed. 

Tim had yet to give the ticking killer his name, unlike Brian, if only to keep their relationship to a minimal co-worker type ordeal. Better than to get too close and something happens, right? But Tim almost regretted such a decision; he might have been less annoying, considering there seemed a lot more variations to his alter’s name than he had originally thought. Toby didn’t even seem fazed by the shout, if only withdrawing the offending hand as he stared down at him.

“I-I’m  _ bored _ ,” Toby whined, rocking on his heels as he looked to Tim expectantly. Tim glared.

“And that’s my problem  _ how _ , exactly?” Tim asked as he  _ tried _ to return his attention back to his book. Of course, that didn’t deter Toby from bothering him further.

“W-well, w-wanna hang o-out or something?” Toby all but pleaded as he shuffled around until he was sitting beside Tim’s outstretched legs, back to the wall. “C-can’t we wa-watch a m-movie or something?”

“Why can’t  _ you _ go watch a movie while  _ I _ read in peace?” Tim replied, glaring up at the other momentarily.

“Cause i-it’s  _ boring _ wa-watching a m-movie  _ alone _ .”

“Then read a book or something, I dunno,” Tim shrugged as he shifted his back slightly against the headboard behind him.

“But I-I don’t ha-have any good b-books,” Toby sighed. “An-and you t-told me n-not t’ t-touch your st-stuff.” So the kid  _ did _ actually listen to him. That was a first. Tim didn’t have much time to respond as Toby plopped backwards, lying his torso atop Tim’s legs while his own still hung over the bed. “Wh-what’re you re-reading?” Toby asked curiously.

“T’ Kill a Mockingbird,” Tim said as he flipped the page -- before quickly turning it back, realizing he took in none of the information he had just read on the previous page due to his little nuisance, “which I’m  _ about _ t’ do to you if you don’t leave me  _ alone _ .”

Toby merely giggled, not believing in Tim’s veiled threat. They all knew Slender would be none the happier if one of the three harmed or killed the other over such a small dispute.

“Wh-why d’ you wa-wanna read ab-about killing birds  _ anyway _ ?” asked Toby. Tim rolled his eyes, finally putting the book marker on the page and closing the book itself. He likely wasn’t going to be able to finish it now, anyhow.

“It’s not actually about birds, you idiot,” he grumbled as he put the book on the bedside table. “Didn’t you ever read it in highschool?”

“D-didn’t go t-to highschool,” Toby shrugged, “an-and we di-didn’t have a-a lot of books in th-the house gr-growing up.” 

Right, right. Over the time Toby had stayed under Slender’s control (if one could call it that, as while he had BPD and voices raging through his head, he hadn’t once switched to a different personality like Tim and Brian were able to; why, none were too sure), more and more memories of his previous life began to spring up in his mind. Of his family, growing up and the cesspool of mental disorders that he had gotten, as well what had happened in order for Toby to join them. While Tim hated the boy with a passion, he had to give him credit for what he had done to his father; haven given the boy a stern yet serious and pleased, “Good -- good for you, Rodgers” when he and Brian had learned about it. If only Tim had had that sort of courage when it came to his birth-giver (she wasn’t his mother and never would be, in his eyes). But then again, he might not have ended up where was -- especially with Brian -- if not for that vile woman.

“S-so if it’s no-not about birds,” Toby went on, sitting up once more, “wh-what’s it ab-about?”

“It’s supposed to be about the inequality between whites and blacks during the 50’s, I think,” Tim shrugged, “through the perspective of a little girl. It’s -- not too bad, actually.” 

Toby hummed, intertwining his fingers atop his chest as he looked up to the ceiling as if in thought. Either that, or he was hearing the voices again. That was perhaps one of the only things Tim felt sorry about when it came to Toby. Tim and Brian each only had  _ one _ they had to listen to; and even then, Brian seemed to get along quite well with Hoody compared to Tim and Masky. Having several -- that must have been a special kind of hell for the ticking killer.

“So you gonna lay on my legs all day or are you gonna let me read in peace?” Tim asked after a long moment of silence, crossing his arms as he stared down at the other. Toby’s head snapped to him, brows raised.

“I du-dunno,” Toby shrugged, yet made no motion to remove himself from his spot on the bed. Then, with a smirk, he added, “Y-you gonna ha-hang out wi-with me o-or --?”

In a moment’s notice, Tim forcefully removed his legs from underneath the other, only to use his feet to forcefully push Toby from the bed. Toby screeched as he was pushed off the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a loud  _ thump _ . Tim snickered. Sometimes, he was overly glad that Toby couldn’t feel pain; it was much more fun to fuck around with him then.

“A-asshole,” Toby muttered as his torso popped up from the end of the bed, glaring at Tim with a growing smile.

“I do have one, yes,” Tim retorted in response, his own smirk growing as he went to retrieve his book. “Maybe if you behave long enough to let me read at least  _ one _ chapter,” Tim went on as he reopened his book, “we can go on a walk later. Deal?”

Toby perked up at that. Scrambling to his feet, Toby made a mad dash to the bedroom door, opening it and slamming it shut as he exited. His footsteps could be heard slamming down the stairs before the house went quiet once more. Tim found himself relaxing once more, if only for his mind to wander onto how long Toby would  _ actually _ leave him be rather than the book in his grasp.

Not too long, he mused upon hearing loud movement in the kitchen down below. He just hoped putting out a house fire wasn’t going to soon be on his to-do list today. But, knowing Toby, it probably would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a few cute ones with Toby cause it's Toby.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which sh*t goes south quickly, and Tim finds himself caring for Toby more than he should.

Nope.  _ Nope _ . Nope.  _ Nope _ ,  _ nope _ ,  _ nope _ !

Never would he ever have seen himself lugging a sure or soon to be long dead comrade over his shoulder, having narrowly avoided being caught -- but this was where Tim Wright had found himself, with his jacket wet with sweat and blood and feet aching more than they should. His lungs burned harder than what any amount of alcohol and cigarettes would do, and he was rather impressed that he hadn’t passed out yet. But he couldn’t - not until they were safe, until  _ he _ was safe.

Tim couldn’t blame himself, he knew truthfully. They should have been more careful, should have checked the house more thoroughly, and with that would have likely found the basement where the estranged grandfather had been residing with his own protection in the form of a handgun. Toby had, at first, unknowingly taken the shot. All they had heard was the sudden gunshot ring out, and then there was a flurry of motion as the grandfather tried to overtake them. It didn’t end in his favor, obviously.

But it wasn’t until they were stashing the man’s body that Tim recognized the bloody mess that was pooling around Toby’s side as he walked; or even his stumbling before that, complaining of dizziness when he otherwise shouldn’t have it. He had gotten shot, and by a good aim no less. And of course Tim panicked - why wouldn’t he? If only he had been paying more attention - it was Toby’s back to the door leading to the basement, Tim was facing it; he should have seen the man before he even aimed. But he didn’t.

He couldn’t take Toby to a hospital, he knew. Too many questions from concerned nurses and whatnot. Couldn’t risk anyone getting caught, especially with the notion that you were on your own if you  _ were _ caught. He  _ could _ always leave Toby at a hospital to get treatment and possibly locked away for the rest of his life - or even easier, leave him at that house to bleed out, say the mission had gone awry and everyone would easily believe him. No one would genuinely bring a dead body home, after all, nor would they question someone passing while out on the job. It’d happened before, and why anyone rarely got too close to else. Because you could lose someone at any moment, as to be expected; and you didn’t want to get  _ too _ close if something like that occurred..

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t just leave the kid there and let him  _ die _ . Not again. Not like  _ Jay _ . He was just glad Toby couldn’t feel the pain of the bullet wound, at the very least; else he’d be in a lot worse time than just lulling his head against the other’s shoulder as Tim walked heavily along. He kept a moderate pace, which surprised even himself as he trudged into the woods with the weight of a man and a half in his arms.

“ _ God _ , Rodgers,” he found himself muttering even through his mask, yet his grip on the other ever tightening, “for someone that skinnier than hell, you sure are  _ heavy _ .”

There came a weakly muttered response, Toby’s eyes fluttering open momentarily before closing just as quickly. Tim grunted, trying to pick up speed or momentum - whichever came to him first, really - with the reality that he probably didn’t have enough time at this rate carving a hole into the back of his skull. But no, he would refuse to let that happen. Not again.

And God forbid to Toby, of all people.

*******

Tim had found the well quite easily -- and Hoody to boot, given that once he joined Toby on the other end, he had found the mustard wearing hooded Proxy helping the injured teen to his feet with an almost concerned expression on his face (how it was possible, Tim wasn’t too sure he wanted to know). He was just glad the other had a decent bout of timing on him.

Said hooded figure gave him a questioning glance as Tim got to his feet and stumbled to help carry the weight of the youngest Proxy.

“Shit went south,” Tim grunted as they began quickly up the path, “ _ real _ fast. An’ -- I couldn’t just  _ leave  _ ‘im.”

Hoody gave what Tim could only assume to be a nod of understanding as he helped to lean part of the partly dead weight onto one shoulder via an arm slunk around his shoulders; Tim with the other as they half dragged Toby towards the mansion. 

It took less time if it were just Tim, though that didn’t stop the rise of confused and concerned sounds as the raven haired man half knocked the door in with his free shoulder; anxiety at its peaks as he could tell the young killer’s breathing had begun to slow. Tim practically ignored the questions that were bombarding him as he felt Toby’s weight shift to him fully, Hoody half helping Tim make his way to the basement and half shooing away anyone that began to pry a little too closely.

It wasn’t until the teen was given to Dr Smiley and was lying on a bed; not until he himself was half forced onto his own bed and jacket stripped off to check for any wounds by Hoody, did Tim find himself able to relax fully. His vision teetered, vaguely hearing Hoody - no, Brian’s voice telling him softly to lie down, that the raven haired killer could actually find it in him to relax and allow sleep to overcome him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As to how Toby made it vs Jay didn’t -- I believe Proxys are just a tad more resistant to dying than most. While they don’t gain any super natural qualities per say, being tougher to take down upon being marked does seem like an ability Slender could give to Proxys. They’re still obviously quite killable. I’d just imagine it’d take more than a bullet to do that.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tim has a momentary lapse of kindness towards Toby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in one day. You're welcome.

_ I’m Driving, Here I Sit _

_ Cursing My Government _

_ For Not Using My Taxes _

_ To Fill Holes With More Cement! _

He awoke to soft murmurs and the sounds of machines whirring around him. Tim breathed in deeply, a hand smoothing over his forehead as he moved to sit up - but was stopped mid way by a gentle hand that pushed him back onto the bed he quickly realized he was laying on. It wasn’t like he could say no, his body weak from the earlier excursion and --

Tim again went to move from the bed again in a slight panic; and again he was gently pushed back down onto the bed. The soft murmurs continued around him for another moment before he could hear someone walking away, with someone else moving a chair beside him to sit down. Brown eyes blinked over slowly to reveal the still dim room of their makeshift medical wing. The sound of a chair shifting around came to his ears again, and suddenly Brian was leaning over him, ripping off his own face mask as he looked down at him with obvious concern and relief. 

“Hey,” he spoke softly, pressing a soft kiss against Tim’s forehead as one of his tired arms reached to gently grasp around the back of the other’s neck as if to make sure the other was still there. “How you feelin’?”

“Sore,” was Tim’s grumbled reply. “How long have I been out?”

“A couple of hours,” Brian hummed, hand moving to where Tim’s free one went to rub his forehead, causing the raven haired man to sigh. “You should be alright, though. Nothing bad besides some bruising.”

“An’.... And the kid?” Tim asked after a brief pause, realizing he didn’t see Toby lying in the immediate vicinity.

“Smiley’s got him in his own little room, for now,” Brian informed. “He’ll be fine, but he lost a lot of blood from wherever he got shot to here. He just needs rest, is all. Like  _ you _ . He said you must have run yourself ragged, carrying him that far. Did you even stop to  _ rest _ ?”

Brian’s other free hand moved through Tim’s hair gently, gliding through it and earning a hum in response as Tim felt himself begin to relax again.

“Not like I had a choice to,” Tim muttered, eyes temporarily fluttering shut. “Kid probably wouldn’t have made it if I didn’t book it when I realized he was shot. Couldn’t risk taking him to an actual hospital, either.”

Brian seemed to pause for a moment, before nodding in understanding. His hand on the other’s forehead rested now on one of Tim’s hands; the one in his hair pausing yet not removing itself from the blackened locks.

“You should get some rest,” Brian muttered, placing another gentle kiss atop the other’s forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

A hand gently grasped the one around Brian’s neck and drew them back to the bed, a gentle smile placed upon the dirty blonde’s lips as it folded around Tim’s hand, almost refusing to let go. A smile, although tired, rose on Tim’s lips then; chest rising and falling slowly as he relaxed himself.

“Love you,” came the raspy voice that exited the raven haired man’s throat, sounding sore and tired as his body laxed and began to lull itself to sleep.

“Love you, too, Tim,” was the last thing Tim heard as he was lulled into sleep, another gentle kiss being placed on his forehead as he soon found himself deep in his dreams.

*******

It took Toby one day before Smiley allowed him out of his makeshift hospital wing, however before Smiley left for his own duties (he’d only been visiting at the time of Tim’s arrival, which many had counted as overly lucky; but none could complain) elsewhere. However, the teen was ordered to rest for a week or two before being allowed back onto duty. So, naturally, Toby had spent the majority of his time in the Proxy’s shared room if not the kitchen to eat or living room to lull himself to sleep with marathons of shows and movies flashing on the television. 

While the ticking teen could be annoying when stuffed together with the other two Proxy’s, it made it easier to tend to him when needed. While Brian remembered minimal from his time getting his nursing degree in college, the young man had opted to aid Dr Smiles and Nurse Ann when possible so he could do his best to relearn what he had lost (to an extent, of course; he didn’t actually want to  _ kill _ anyone with the knowledge he was given) as so he could help when any of the other monsters, as well as his boyfriend and fellow Proxy, when they were injured without worrying about calling Smiley or Ann. It made things easier on everyone, honestly.

It was dark as Tim stumbled from the hallway bathroom, maskeless and unafraid of anyone seeing his face as it was highly unlikely he’d run into anyone at this hour, and stumbled in boxers and a t- shirt back towards his room. The sounds of ticking emitted from the room as he quietly entered and shut the door behind him, the sound a mix of their wall clock and the ticking teen as he lay in his single bed against the far wall, back facing the door as Tim entered and trotted back towards his own shared bed with Brian. They’d come back from a mission that day, and all Tim wanted was to be lulled back into dreamland. So he slid silently into bed, shuffling under the covers and causing the still sleeping Brian, who lay in the middle of the bed (having moved when Tim finally pried himself from his lover to relieve his bladder) to almost instinctively roll from his back onto his side and wrap his arms around Tim’s bulky frame with his head nuzzling into the other’s chest with incoherent muttering.

Tim smiled down at the other man, fingers instantly ruffling through dirty blond locks as Brian relaxed once more with an almost content sigh. Even with their world being the hellish nightmare that it was, it was nice to have someone with you through it all. And it was especially nice to know that that person was your boyfriend. God, Tim wasn’t sure what he’d do without the other at this point. Probably become a mindless zombie or something.

“M-Masky?” stuttered Toby suddenly, the sounds of movement and springs creaking coming from his bed and jolting Tim from his thoughts. “Y-you st-still aw-awake?” 

Tim grunted, but supposed he should at least respond. He didn’t want to wake Brian from his own deep slumber if Toby needed help, so figured he could at least aid the teen in whatever he needed and fall asleep soon after. Brown eyes shifted towards the brunette, who had rolled over to face him in his bed. Small, occasional twitches and ticks ravaged Toby’s body, blankets rustling along every so often but not enough to disturb the other two.

“Yeah,” Tim grunted in reply, shifting slightly himself to better look at the other. Brian shifted in Tim’s arm, Brian’s face nuzzling into the larger chest instinctively. It almost made Tim coo, honestly. “What’d’ya need?”

Toby seemed to fidget, eyes darting down to his mattress as if in thought. His ticking seemed to grow more frequent, meaning he was likely feeling nervous or something. It was rare to see Toby in such a manner, seeming nervous and fidgety. He was generally boisterous and outgoing and quite annoying. So seeing him like this was almost -  _ amusing _ in a way.

“Uhm, I-I just,” Toby breathed, still looking at his mattress as if it was the only thing in the world. It took a long moment of even more fidgeting and Tim waiting patiently before Toby made eye contact once more. “I-I ju-just wanted to s-say thanks,” he practically breathed through scarred lips,”fo-for helping me li-like you did. Sm-Smiley said I-I would’ve di-died if you hadn’t br-brought me back he-here. An-and I know you hate me and all, so i-it means a lot. Re-really.”

“Don’t sweat it,” came Tim’s reply. “You’d…. Do the same for me. So don’t worry about it.” Toby hummed in what sounded like agreement, face softening. “Now get back to sleep, yeah?” Tim yawned as he went on.

“I gu-guess,” Toby ticked, shuffling around in his bed. “Th-thanks. Ni-night, Masky.”

“Tim.”

“Hm?” Toby asked, head turning his head back to Tim now sleepily.

“Call me Tim.”

Toby’s eyes widened in momentary shock, before a smile was plastered onto his scarred lips.

“Al-alright. Night, Tim.”

“Night, Tobes.”

As Tim began to relax himself back into slumber, he completely missed the smile that had some odd meaning behind it as Toby rolled over with a content sigh, following shortly into dreamland.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please Kudo and comment -- I'm chill with constructive criticism!


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